Hollowfibre hollow hoot (the stuffed owl on the mantle snoot),
and by the pillow, counting sheep the child he lays on Mr. Threep.
The sock-made monkey, sleeping deep; will not thrash, or softly weep.
So Joleon sucks monkey’s thumbs,
badly sewn to monkey arms.
You see the toy; it wrings it palms, and Joleon is not alarmed.

Watch the monkey turn to him, armed with badly stitched on grin.
View the creature’s lips now part;
he talks the boy to an impasse.
“From here to then; least 7 days, you’ll turn your mother’s food away!
You will not moan or turn to bread.
Be sent to bed, to toys, instead.”
Sews his top lip back to his chin:
Thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp with his pin.

Timid Joleon, round and stable, perching at the dinner table.
Turns away from his potatoes; hams and gravy, roasted beef,
but all that week he grows not sleek,
and every night young Mr. Threep commands the boy to leave his meat.
He fills the boy with sawdust through an opening discreet.
And father cannot stand this now:
Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack ‘cross his brow.

See poor Joleon lift his head, on strings and pivots by his bed.
Carved cavalry is now arranged by Mr. Threep and Major James;
ships in bottles arcing wild train their cannons on the child.
Mr Threep adopts his scissors,
seeking pretty human innards:
Splits the boy from head to toe and swaps his organs out for foam.
Snip snip snip snip snip snip snip up his spine, and then:
Thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp, thwipp in quick time.
See Joleon on full display, as leaking monkey lead the way.
They puppeteer him down the stairs:
the meek lad stares and stares and stares.
They make him sit and he behaves
and both his parents like the change.

Monkey wants to turn to man, be cloth or breathing simian;
and if the toy is left to speak,
he’ll silence you when e’er you sleep!


~ Leland Velociraptor, 2012


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